Sharing Life Together
by keeptheotherone
Summary: A blown Auror mission forces Harry to reconsider his relationship with Ginny, who is playing Quidditch in Wales. Can they make it work with the danger, fame, and pressure of their careers? Includes R/H, dinner with the Trio, and an owlet named Lancelot.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Update Wednesdays are back!

As always, thanks to my fabulous beta vancabreuniter. She saved you guys from more than one plot hole and timeline problem, so you should be grateful, too :) Credit and effusive thanks go to J. K. Rowling for the characters, settings, magic, future career choices, and even a chunk of the timeline.

Speaking of which, this is set the fall—er, autumn—of 1999, just after Ginny and Hermione graduate from Hogwarts. Harry and Ron have been in Auror training for a year. Because of their war experience and the chaos of the Ministry post-Voldemort, they are being expedited through the Auror Academy and are scheduled to complete their training in about eighteen months instead of the usual three years. Also, Harry and Ginny refer to their time at Hogwarts from their own perspectives; if Harry says "third year," think PoA. If Ginny says "third year," think GoF.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Monday, late afternoon_

The lift doors opened. "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services." Harry and Ron exchanged a "let's just get this over with" look.

"You haven't answered my question." Harry opened the door to Auror Headquarters. "How are we going to explain this to Robards?"

"I can't believe you're worried about our boss." Ron dodged the trailing hem of Harry's torn robes. "The real question is, how are we going to explain this to—"

"_Where are they?" demanded a shrill, bossy voice. _

Both men dove for the nearest cubicle. Everyone's attention was on the screeching witch in the corner office, which was unfortunate, as the sight of two grown men—war heroes, no less!—peeking nervously over the top of a 54" barrier was highly entertaining.

"_St. Mungo's says they've already been discharged. I know they have to report in, so __where are they__?"_

"Can you disarm her?" Ron whispered, bent nearly in half to shrink his extensive height into hiding. "You'll only get one chance."

"You should do it." Crouching on the desk, Harry raised one hand to ensure his untidy black hair wasn't revealing their position. "I can't be as—_persuasive_ with her as you can."

Ron risked a glance around the divider's edge. "I can't see her from here, and I can hardly be_ persuasive _at work. You look like hell—when she hugs you just wince and give her puppy eyes. She'll turn to mother hen in no time."

"_I coached Ron through Stealth and Tracking, you can't hide them from me!"_

"That was hot," Ron moaned, his head falling back against the payday schedule charmed to the wall.

"Pay attention," Harry hissed, trying not to imagine how their assignments in Stealth and Tracking could be turned into sex games. "And I don't do puppy eyes."

Ron opened his only to roll them at his best mate. "Pretend you're asking her to look over your Transfiguration homework. You know, one part desperation, two parts hopeful, a dash of Chosen One misery—"

There was a shattering crash. Harry vaulted the barrier and pointed his wand at his boss's open door.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

A red-faced, bushy-haired witch nearly beat her wand out of the room. "HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

Harry tried to follow Ron's advice, but Hermione was making no move to hug him and he would never have asked her to look over his homework when she was like this. "Hullo, Hermione."

"Give me my wand," she said, hand outstretched.

"Give _me _my wand."

Harry jerked his gaze past Hermione to meet the very disgruntled face of the Head of the Aurors. Belatedly, he realized his spell had disarmed both occupants of the room he directed it into. Something slipped into his hand; Ron was passing him Robards's wand.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, tossing it back. "It was—" He was going to say "an accident," but that was his planned explanation for the fiasco that got him in this predicament and Harry wasn't sure that excuse would work once, much less twice. "I was just trying—" He was trying to keep Hermione from destroying Robards's office, but saying so implied Robards was incapable.

"Scared of a witch with a wand, Harry? Too bad there's not a bucket of water nearby."

Most of his coworkers wouldn't catch the Muggle reference, but it was still insulting. He glared at her, tempted to cast a good _Aguamenti_, but then he'd just be facing a wet, angry witch. Harry wasn't convinced Hermione was calm enough to refrain from hexing him or Ron, but refusing to return her wand did make it look like he was afraid of her. Which he was, but the whole Auror Headquarters didn't need to know that. He smacked her wand into her open palm.

"You three can have interrogation four," Robards said. "Miss Granger, I expect to still have two functioning Auror trainees when you leave this office."

()()()()

Interrogation four—what a stupid name for a room!—was located just outside Robards's office and surrounded by glass on three sides. Hermione supposed this was to allow for subtle intimidation, for the accused to feel exposed and vulnerable, and hoped it worked on Ron and Harry. Two days!

"Two days," she spat, rounding on them as Ron closed the door. "You've been cleared for independent missions for _two days_ and you nearly get yourselves killed!"

"It wasn't that ba—"

"You promised me. We stood right there—" she pointed to Harry's and Ron's cubicles across the bullpen—"and you promised you'd be careful, no unnecessary risks, no heroics. You promised—" She'd just noticed the dark stain splattering Ron's chest, and felt her own blood drain out of her face.

_He's still standing, he's fine. Stay angry, Hermione. Think about how stupidly they acted, how irresp— _

"I can't believe how incredibly irresponsible you were, both of you." She threw an extra glare at Harry. "Nine months hunting Horcruxes, both battles at Hogwarts, and you nearly buy it over a Devil's Snare in the Malfoy gardens!"

"It was more than—"

"First year!" Hermione stabbed her finger in Ron's chest, ignoring his wince. "I taught you how to recognize Devil's Snare in first year, but do you ever listen? You just took off, no orders, no back-up—"

"We had reliable intelligence that some Death Eaters were sighted. We think they thought it was safe since we'd already raided and seized the prop—"

"Codswallop. Robards arranged that raid behind your backs and you never got your revenge. You know the Malfoys' petition to reclaim their home was approved last week, and you risked your lives and my sanity just so you could smash up their place!"

"That wasn't—"

"I thought we were never going to get out the first time, how do you think I felt when I opened a memo that said 'we think Ron and Harry have gone to Malfoy Manor'?"

Ron scowled. "They told you in a memo?"

"I was meeting with the head of the department, I didn't even ask for permission, I just ran out. All I could think—" Hermione was shaking now, reliving the terror of that moment, the stark and utter fear at seeing those four words together: _Ron, Harry, Malfoy Manor . . . ._ "All I could think was you lied to me. You promised to always come back, and two days later you—you—"

Both men crowded around her. Harry patted her back.

"We did come back, Hermione. In one piece and everything."

"We had to try, Hermione," Ron said, smoothing her hair away from her face. "You know we had to try. By the time I realized we were in trouble, Harry was already inside the gates. I couldn't leave him there."

Hermione sniffed. She had comforted herself with the reassurance that Ron and Harry would never leave the other in danger, but she had failed to see that meant they would follow each other into it, too. She knew they would pursue every single Death Eater lead, no matter how small, and this one hardly sounded tiny. Dodgy, perhaps, but . . . .

"That's not your blood?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, a shelf busted my nose. Don't worry. The mediwitch fixed me up, good as new and as long as ever."

Hermione smiled, tracing his face with her fingers. She felt Harry backing away from them and let him go, for now. "You're really okay?"

"My shoulder's sore where this prat knocked me down, but yeah. I'm all right."

"Your shoulder?" She unfastened his robes quickly. "Which one?"

"Hermione! Not here, love."

Hermione froze; Ron's robes were hanging off his shoulders and her hands were inside the neck of his shirt in view of the entire office. Stupid glass box! Jerking back and blushing hard, she turned to Harry for a distraction.

"What about you?" She took in his dirty face, torn robes, and scratched hands. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"That depends," Harry drawled. "Are you going to strip off my robes, too?"

Hermione Granger was no fool. She'd never fancied Harry Potter, but that didn't mean she hadn't noticed his good looks. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his charm, which only made him more charming. It was infuriating, really. Except how could she be angry with someone wearing such a desperately hopeful expression?

"You wish," she said, focusing on his outturned pocket to appear unmoved by his teasing.

"Absolutely." His arms wrapped around her, squeezing until she squeaked. "I'm fine. Truly."

Hermione looked into his face. "You didn't get jinxed, or cursed, or anything?" She hated the weakness that made her ask, but—Malfoy Manor!

"I ducked. Seeker reflexes."

Hermione smacked his arm. "You owe me dessert. Something with chocolate and whipped cream."

"Lunch tomorrow, I promise."

She looked at Ron, lounging in the corner. "I'll tell Robards we're through, shall I?"

()()()()

Harry and Ron scowled at Hermione's retreating back. She sounded a little too happy about turning them over to Robards.

"You shouldn't have told her you were still hurting."

"You're kidding, right? If we ever get out of here, she'll spend the rest of the night fussing over me." Harry didn't return his leer. "Oh, come on. Haven't you ever heard 'let me kiss it and make it better'?"

Harry's face went blank, and Ron felt like a heel. Of course Harry hadn't heard that expression growing up. He didn't have a mum, and his aunt probably cheered when he got hurt, the hag.

"She worries," Harry said curtly. "She doesn't need to know everything that happens."

"No, she doesn't. You'll notice I didn't tell her _why_ you knocked me to the ground. But she needs to know something. If I don't tell her when I'm hurt, she can't trust me when I say I'm okay."

()()()()

Harry stared. That actually made a lot of sense. They'd been given more responsibility and less supervision over the summer in anticipation of working as an independent team, and Harry knew he had been showing the strain. Ginny had been rather standoffish the last few times they'd gone out after work, and since she started Quidditch training several weeks ago she didn't even ask how his day went. "I'm sure everything's fine," she had said when they Floo-called Saturday night, so sarcastically that even Harry had noticed (not that she was forthcoming). Was this it? Did she think he was shutting her out, that she couldn't trust him to be honest?

Harry's insides squirmed. He had been shutting Ginny out, and if Ron had been as open with her as he was with Hermione, she knew Harry was glossing things over. No, Ron wouldn't have had to tell her, Hermione would have told her. He sighed. Actually, no one needed to say anything; Ginny wasn't an idiot.

He thought about Hermione's eagerness to see Ron, to touch him, when she found out he was hurting, and Ron's anticipation of her attentions once they were alone. He, however, always avoided Ginny after being injured, not wanting her to see the bruises and marks that would reveal his lie. But as far as Ginny knew, he didn't trust her. He was no good at lying, and he'd refused to tell her the truth.

"Potter, Weasley, my office, now!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a desperate glance. They'd never decided what to tell Robards.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't normally write long author's notes, but I have several things to say. For those of you concerned that chapter one was more Ron/Hermione than Harry/Ginny, you're right. It never occurred to me that Chapter 1 might feel like false advertising, and I certainly didn't mean to mislead anyone! Although we will see Ron and Hermione again, _I promise_, this fic really is about Harry and Ginny's relationship.

If you've given me the benefit of the doubt and returned for Chapter 2, I appreciate it :) It's a short chapter (this a/n comes dangerously close to exceeding it!), but it's also one of my favorites, and the rest of the chapters will be longer. I've said it before, but knowing what works (and what doesn't) helps me improve as a writer, so please review and share your thoughts.

On with the chapter notes!

I wanted something symbolic for Lucius's and Draco's middle names. _Lucius_ is Roman, so I searched Roman emperors. _Uranius_ reminded me of Ron's comment in Divination, plus he was described as a usurper with a brief reign. Sold! _Draco_ is, of course, Latin for _dragon_ and a constellation, but I couldn't find any good celestial or mythical associations, so I went back to the Latin. His change in HBP and DH has always intrigued me, so when I found _Varian,_ "the changeable one," I thought it both strong and appropriate. I did all this before remembering the practice of using the father's first name as the oldest son's middle name and decided to keep mine anyway.

Finally, I need your help. The formatting will not allow me to strikethrough, so picture anything that's underlined as if the line were running through the middle of the words. Use your imagination; I know you can do it, you're Harry Potter fans!

keeptheotherone

* * *

_Monday night_

Harry rolled up the parchment, sealed it, and Banished it to Robards's inbox. His boss had left hours ago and Harry had sent Ron home to Hermione not long after, offering to finish the report on their botched raid on Malfoy Manor. He and Ron had intercepted the intelligence stating that Death Eaters had been spotted at the Ministry-confiscated property as recently as the night before and had immediately Disapparated without sending the intelligence through the proper channels. Their haste and carelessness had resulted in minor injuries for both of them, a near miss for Ron, the escape of multiple Death Eaters, a traumatized Hermione, an irate supervisor, and the retraction of their approval to work independently. Harry rubbed his hands over his face. He wanted to go home and forget this afternoon ever happened, but he needed to write to Ginny. He picked up his quill again.

_Dear Ginny,_

_First of all, I'm fine. Honest! You can ask Hermione. Something happened There were __I had a bad afternoon, and Ron said something that made me think (oh, sorry—I hope you're sitting down already). I want to tell you about it, but I want to do it in person, and I really need to see you __now immediately ____as soon as you can. I know you're busy, but do you think you could get liberty on Friday, or maybe this weekend? Even if it's only for a couple of hours—I'll come to you._

_I miss you, and I'm really sorry I've been so distracted. I'll explain everything __Friday night__ when I see you. _

_Love, Harry_

Harry read the letter over. Ginny wouldn't like waiting for details, but telling her in person was best, right? And he apologized. The words blurred as a wave of fatigue washed over him. It would have to do. Harry corked the inkbottle and Summoned his traveling cloak.

Five minutes later he was searching the Ministry owl office for a sturdy specimen. Selecting a screech owl that had just spit out the bones of its dinner, Harry tied the letter to its leg. "Make sure you get this to her by breakfast, okay? But if you're early, don't wake her up, just wait outside until you see her moving around. All right?"

The owl hooted, stretched its wings, and took off out the open window. Harry sighed. He really should get his own owl.

()()()()

_Tuesday noon_

"Come on, Harry. It's lunchtime."

Ron's large hand planted itself on the document Harry was trying to read: the court summary from the hearing that authorized the Ministry to seize Malfoy Manor "and all contents, possessions, and property therein with the express purpose of collecting, assessing, and evaluating evidence against Lucius Uranius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and Draco Varian Malfoy on the charges of Death Eater activity; aiding and abetting Death Eaters, including Lord Voldemort; attempted murder; kidnapping; and treason against the Ministry of Magic."

"Bring me a sandwich and crisps."

"Can't. You promised Hermione dessert, remember? Besides, you've read that thing a dozen times even before today. Once more isn't going to change anything."

"There's got to be a loophole," Harry stood as Ron pulled on the papers he refused to release, "some way we can stall Malfoy, keep the house in Ministry possession just a little longer . . . ."

"They're gone, mate." Ron dropped the document into the self-shredding bin and turned his friend towards the door. "We screwed up."

"We have to do something, Ron, we have to find a way to catch them, to find out where they went—"

The lift doors rattled open, the female voice announced their floor, and Ron and Harry squeezed in.

"You know I'm with you, but the answer's not in that report."

Harry glared; he couldn't talk about this in a crowded lift, and Ron knew it.

()()()()

Harry was weaving through tables in the Ministry cafeteria, aiming for Hermione, when the screech owl landed on his plate. His tray tipped to one side, causing his butterbeer to fall onto his bag of crisps. He scowled.

"What did she tell you, to ruin my lunch?"

The owl hooted in reply, and Harry felt the first hint of foreboding.

"Ron still in line?" Hermione asked as he unloaded his lunch and her dessert.

"Yeah. Steak and kidney pie today."

"Ah."

Harry untied his letter and felt another twinge of warning. Ginny had used the same envelope, which read:

Ginny Weasley

Second Floor Dormitory

Holyhead Harpies Training Grounds

Holyhead, Wales

Harry Potter

Wherever the Hell He Is

London, England (I think)

_Dear Harry,_

_First of all, I'm fine, not that you asked. I've had a bad week and wanted to tell you about it in person, but when I need to see you, you can't. I'm busy Friday, but I can get leave in a few months. You most certainly will have to come to me, and it better be for a lot more than a couple of hours._

_You should miss me, you are sorry, and this explains nothing._

_Ginny_

"She's pissed at me." Harry stared at the letter.

"What?"

"She's pissed at me. Here." He thrust the letter into Hermione's hand.

"Harry, this doesn't even make sense. What—_"_

"Turn it over." Ginny had used the same parchment, too. He opened the bag and stared morosely at his pulverized crisps.

Hermione flipped her wrist, read Harry's letter, flipped it back, re-read Ginny_'_s, and pursed her lips in an "oh" of comprehension. "Really, Harry," she said in that scolding voice he hated, "no wonder she's upset. This letter is all about you."

"It's all about how much I want to see her!"

"Exactly." Hermione drizzled more dressing over her salad. He never understood why she didn't just pour the whole thing on in the first place.

"How much you want to talk, and you need her, and you want to see her, and you miss her, so she should rearrange her schedule to accommodate _you_."

"I offered to go to Wales. And I apologized!"

Hermione folded the letter and slid it back in the envelope. Harry could have sworn her lips twitched before returning to that all-too-familiar disapproving line.

"You only offered to go to Wales because she was home a fortnight ago, and that's hardly an apology. 'I'm sorry I was distracted'? What does that even mean?"

He'd been expecting a little more loyalty from his best friend, even if she was a girl. "It means I'm sorry I was distracted!"

Hermione, busy crunching broccoli, waved her fork and made a scoffing noise in her throat. Harry sniffed his tuna sandwich, then gave up lunch as a bad job and twisted open his butterbeer. Actual words were coming, he was sure.

Hermione swallowed and wiped her mouth. "How much time did you spend with Ginny when she was home, Harry? Because I hung out with her an awful lot, much more than I expected for her pre-season leave."

Harry gaped at her. That wasn't Ginny's pre-season leave, her pre-season leave ran into September, and this was—crap. September 17th.

Crap. Hermione's birthday was in two days!


	3. Chapter 3

_Tuesday evening_

Harry wandered aimlessly through Flourish and Blotts, looking for a birthday gift for Hermione. _British Witches, Past to Present._ Boring. _Important Modern Magical Discoveries._ Hadn't they looked in that one for something about Flamel, way back in first year? She'd already read it, then. He crossed the aisle. _Magical Me. _Definitely not. _Gadding with Ghouls, Break with a Banshee, Cooking with Gilderoy _? Well, that was interesting. Lockhart was writing from St. Mungo's.

Harry turned around. _Wilhelmina's Wandless Wonders. _He didn't want to know. _Magical Positions for the Discriminating Witch._ Okay, maybe he wanted to know about that one. Were there any pictures?

"Flourish and Blotts will be closing in ten minutes' time. Please make your final selections and bring them to the front of the shop for purchase."

Harry dropped his hand. This was pointless. Maybe he should get her a nice Muggle book, something by Shakespeare, or Blake, or—he shuddered—Austen. He dodged an elderly wizard perusing a copy of _Magical Solutions to Intestinal Maladies_ and spotted a table of colorful, cloth-covered books near the window. Harry picked one up and brightened. A blank book, perfect! Did they have any blue ones?

()()()()

"Ginny, Floo!"

Ginny stuck her head into the hallway. "Tell Harry I'm not here!"

"It's not Harry!"

There was no point asking who it was; she was lucky Emma had troubled herself to call up the stairwell.

Ginny jogged downstairs. Voices spilled out of the adjoining Common Room, but the Harpies' lobby was empty. She conjured a cushion and sat down in front of a disembodied Hermione. "Let me guess, Harry told you about the letter."

Hermione laughed. "We were at lunch. 'Harry Potter, wherever the hell he is'?"

"Yeah, well . . . did you read his letter?"

"I did, and I told him it was unfair, expecting time from you now that he needed something."

"What did he say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know Harry."

Yes, she did.

"How are you?"

Hermione's head tilted to one side, like it did when she shrugged. "I'm all right. I dreamed last night."

Ginny didn't need to ask what about. Hermione had sent her Patronus yesterday when she got word that Harry and Ron were missing. Ginny had thought she might faint at the sight of the silver otter; she hadn't seen a Patronus since the disastrous end to Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"Ron stayed with you?"

"Yes, Harry sent him home early while he stayed to finish their report." Hermione sighed.

"But Harry's okay? You told me they were both fine." Ginny leaned forward.

"Physically, they are. Ron told me this afternoon that Harry spent the morning going over the court report from the seizure of Malfoy Manor again, and Ron sat in on Malfoy's interview. They're both even more determined after yesterday's debacle, but I don't see that anything can be done."

"What about your meeting?"

"Mr. Diggory was sympathetic when he heard it was Ron and Harry. I have the minutes to review tonight. You said you'd had a bad week, what happened?"

"Oh, that was mostly to annoy Harry. Training is tough, but I can handle it."

"You're not injured? You're eating well, and sleeping?"

Now Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mum, I'm taking care of myself. It's my first season; I'll adjust."

"Are you going to get off after Friday's match?"

Ginny hesitated. "Harry forgot."

"Of course he didn't forget. Even I know your first match is Friday."

"He asked if I could get time off, Hermione. He didn't say 'after the match' or 'when I come up,' just could I get liberty on Friday."

Hermione closed her eyes and Ginny knew she was rereading the letter in her head. "Oh, dear, he did, didn't he? Well, I'm sure it was a temporary lapse. What did he say about it when you were home?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean, 'nothing'? Surely you discussed the next time you would see each other!"

Ginny shook her head.

"Open the door, I'm coming up."

"No, Hermione, really—"

But she was already out of the flames. Ginny scrambled across the lobby and opened the heavy wood door just as Hermione raised her hand to knock.

"Are you crazy?" Ginny glanced over her shoulder. "You know we're not allowed visitors during the week. If Gwen finds out you're here, she won't let me play on Friday, even as a reserve!"

"So we'll make sure she doesn't find out. Where to?"

Ginny stared at her. This was the prefect who had threatened her with detention because she offered to share the food pilfered from a post-curfew kitchens raid? During_ exams_?

"Ginny?"

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "Hermione, it's fine. If Harry doesn't want to see me play, that's okay—"

Hermione wasn't buying it.

"All right, let's go down to the pitch. There shouldn't be anyone there this late."

()()()()

_Wednesday morning_

Harry rifled through the new mail on his desk and pulled out an apple-green envelope.

"That from Ginny?"

"Yeah." At least it was addressed properly this time, with the Auror Headquarters and Ministry of Magic like usual.

"Hermione said she was pissed at you."

"Yeah." A small piece of thick, dark green and gold parchment fell out.

"Good on her."

"Excuse me?" Harry looked up.

"Good on her," Ron repeated, sorting through his own inbox. "You've been an arse lately."

Well, yeah, but . . . . "How do you figure that?"

"You barely saw her when she was home. We went out twice without you, then that night in Hogsmeade she had just decided to leave when you arrived. You only showed up for her farewell party because Mum insisted, and you were late."

"I was busy."

"Of course you were busy. We're all busy, but everyone made time for Ginny except you. She hid it well, but she was hurt you wouldn't make plans with her. Bit hard to claim work as an excuse when your partner's not working. Sign this." Ron flung an interdepartmental memo with more force than strictly necessary.

"I saw her almost every night." Harry scrawled his signature on the pale violet parchment and tossed it back.

Ron gave him a dirty look. "That doesn't count, Harry."

Harry decided not to mention Ginny had an unusual number of headaches that week. "Well, I owled her and asked to come up Friday, and she said no."

"Aren't you going to the exhibition on Friday?"

Harry's heart stopped, then restarted double time. No, he couldn't have forgotten her first match! His stomach squirmed again as he remembered hearing Ron talk about it, but not Ginny. Why hadn't he asked her when her first match was? Why hadn't they discussed her _season_ schedule?

Harry looked at the green and gold parchment still lying in his lap. Harpies colors. That was a Quidditch ticket, that was. Sent to him by his girlfriend the Harpy.

Without a note.

"You forgot about the match?" The parchment in Ron's hand fluttered unnoticed to the floor. "Your girlfriend's first professional Quidditch match?"

Harry winced. It sounded even worse out loud.

"George and I've had tickets for weeks, the whole family has. Hermione and even Fleur are coming. Charlie talked about it, too, but Ginny convinced him to wait for a league match. You love Ginny and you love Quidditch; what's going on?"

Harry glanced around the busy office. "Not here. Come on." He led the way between the maze of cubicles, past the interrogation chambers, and through the door into the training rooms with Ron on his heels.

()()()()

"So you're saying," Ron said several minutes later, "that you've been avoiding Ginny because you thought she couldn't handle your job. Because she was rubbish with the whole Chosen One thing, remember? Such a weak witch, easily intimidated, cries at the drop of a hat . . . ."

"I just thought, after everything, she shouldn't have to worry about me."

"That explains why she's been grilling me about work, but it still doesn't explain why you couldn't be bothered with her when she was home."

Harry didn't see any help for it. "I forgot it was her pre-season leave, Ron. I thought you lot were being a bit dramatic about seeing your baby sister, and I blew you off. If I'd remembered we wouldn't get much time together until Christmas, I would have been around more, but I kept thinking things would slow down after you and I qualified. I know it's no excuse, but that's the truth."

Ron didn't say anything, just leaned against the lockers and crossed his arms.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and went on the offensive. "You didn't warn me about Hermione's birthday. We always shop for her together, and I was at Flourish and Blotts all by myself last night." Wow. That sounded pathetic.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I reckoned you knew her birthday by now, Harry."

"Of course I know her birthday. I just didn't know it was tomorrow." That had sounded better in his head, too.

"What did you get her?"

"A blank book. No worries about her having already read it, eh?"

"A diary? You bought the woman who went Horcrux hunting with you a magical diary? Hell, Harry, if Ginny hears about this—it's been nice knowing you, mate!"


	4. Chapter 4

_Wednesday evening_

Harry stood outside the corner telephone box, waiting for Ron to finish calling in their order. He and Hermione had introduced Ron to pizza the day the boys moved into their flat, and Ron had taken to it like a grindylow to water. Rewarded by the delivery of piping-hot food to his doorstep, he mastered the telephone in no time and was still experimenting to determine his favorite toppings. Harry hoped tonight's selection was fungus-free. He'd never liked mushrooms, even before he'd chopped their cousins into potions.

Ron hung up the phone. "Hang on, I'm going to ring Hermione."

"Floo her at home. This stuff is heavy," Harry said, shifting their packages.

"Go on, I'll catch you up."

Harry didn't move. Merlin knew how long they'd talk if he wasn't chivvying Ron along.

"Oh, all right. Pizza should be here in twenty minutes, anyway."

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked as they entered their flat and he set the largest package on an end table. "It doesn't seem like much of a gift."

"The purpose of a gift is to make the other person happy. Trust me, this will make Hermione very happy. And there's still the Lockhart book."

They grinned at each other.

"Is the pizza there yet?" Hermione was in the Floo.

"No, but come over anyway. Harry has a gift for you to open tonight."

"Really?" Hermione squealed. "I'll be right there."

And with a _pop _she Apparated into their sitting room, still wearing her work robes.

"Where is it?"

The shape would give away the surprise, so Harry was blocking it from view as she scanned the room. He glanced at Ron, who gave a reassuring nod, then stepped aside.

Sitting on the end table, covered with a brown cloth, was the unmistakable shape of a birdcage. Hermione gasped.

"Go on," Harry encouraged her.

She stepped forward and removed the cover to reveal a young tawny owl.

"Harry, is this . . . ."

"Meet Lancelot," he said, more confidently than he felt. "My new owl."

Hermione covered her mouth with one hand. "You bought yourself a new owl for my birthday?" Her voice sounded tearful, but Harry couldn't tell as she was still watching the bird, asleep with his head under his wing.

He glared at Ron; this was exactly what he was afraid of. Who bought themselves something for their best friend's birthday?

"Er, yes?"

Apparently this was the right thing to say, for Ron's smug face was obscured behind a cloud of bushy brown hair. Harry hugged her back. He'd been ignoring her hints for ages, but it hadn't been so bad. Not if it made Hermione smile, took a little weight off her shoulders, helped her believe he really was putting the war behind him.

"I'm so glad." Hermione beamed, pushing her hair back and bending down in front of the cage. "He's so cute and fluffy! Can I take him out?"

"It's your present," Harry said, smiling at her.

"Wake up, Lancelot." The owl stirred and spread his wings slightly, seeking balance as she lifted him out of the cage on her palm and raised him to Harry's eye level. "Say hello to Daddy."

Lancelot hooted on cue but Harry was not impressed. Hermione laughed at his reproachful expression, and the little owl hooted and flapped his wings again.

"Don't scare him," Harry said, taking Lance from her and holding him securely against his chest. "He just woke up."

Hermione looked highly amused at this paternal protectiveness, but Harry was saved by the bell.

"Food!" Ron paid the delivery boy, including a huge tip (Harry wasn't sure he believed Muggle bills were real money), deposited the pizza on the coffee table, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Harry set Lancelot back in his cage and opened the pizza box. He should have known—Canadian bacon and pineapple. "Has Ginny said anything about me coming to Friday's match?"

Hermione leaned around him. "Mmm, my favorite." She popped a piece of pineapple into her mouth. "Did she send you a ticket?"

"Yeah, but no note."

"I think you'd better be thankful for that, Harry. Please tell me you're planning something good."

Harry shrugged. How did a bloke say "I'm sorry I've been such an arse" without looking like one? "I was thinking about sending her some honking daffodils, she actually likes them, and a box of Fizzing Whizbees."

"Why Fizzing Whizbees?"

Harry looked up from separating his slices of pizza. It was extremely unusual for Hermione to ask a stupid question. "They're her favorite."

"Since when?" Hermione snuck another pineapple, off his section this time.

He pulled it out of her reach. "Since third year. She was watching us with our bags of Honeydukes sweets, and I offered her one."

Hermione smiled indulgently. "Harry, she took it because it came from you. Ginny's favorite is plain Honeydukes chocolate bars. She could eat her weight in them." Hermione bit off a string of cheese.

How could he have been her boyfriend for over a year and not known her favorite sweet?

"Why hasn't she ever told me?"

There, that was more like Hermione—that annoying "how could you not know this" look. "I imagine she likes the reminder that you noticed her even when she thought you weren't paying attention."

"Well, nice of you to wait for me." Ron returned with plates, serviettes, and three cans of soda (because Harry and Hermione insisted butterbeer and pizza did not mix).

"You were slow," Hermione said, tearing off her crust. She always ate it separately, like a breadstick.

"Clean plates are in short supply." Ron loaded his plate and dug in.

"Flowers and sweets isn't a bad start, Harry, but it's not enough to get you out of trouble this time."

"We're talking about him forgetting Ginny's first professional Quidditch match?" Ron had been repeating this phrase at every opportunity all day.

Harry cut him off. "Well then, why send them to her, if she's not going to forgive me?"

"Because hopefully it will allow you to survive long enough to apologize properly. And I don't mean sex," she added, jabbing at him with her breadstick.

Ron choked. "Hermione, we've talked about this. Don't mention that word—"

"Honestly, Ron, Harry and Ginny have been sleeping together nearly as long as you and I have. You should be used to the idea—"

It was Harry who made a protesting noise this time. "Enough—neither of us wants to think about either of you with the other. Okay?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up the last slice of pizza. Ron and Harry watched enviously. She always ate more than her share when they ordered Canadian bacon and pineapple.

Harry balled up his serviette and threw it in the empty box. "All right, then, what do you suggest?"

Hermione chewed with indecent enjoyment and swallowed with relish. "Something sincere and heartfelt. And it wouldn't hurt for you to look a bit like an idiot, either."

Brilliant. He'd pissed off his girlfriend by acting like an arse, and the only way to fix it was to look like a chump.

()()()()

_Thursday morning_

Ron stirred as light penetrated his eyelids. He'd been having the most wonderful dream . . . . He took a deep breath, smelled Hermione's shampoo, and opened his eyes. Brilliant, not a dream.

Hermione was sprawled on her back beside him, and now that he was properly awake he remembered _persuading _her to spend the night. She didn't often stay at his and Harry's flat; despite what she said last night (mostly to watch him and Harry squirm, he knew), she was still a little shy about acknowledging their physical relationship. Ron had no idea why; it was just Harry, after all, and it had been pretty obvious they were sleeping together since that awkward night last summer when Hermione had joined them in his room and simply refused to leave. It wasn't until Ron turned down a game of chess that Harry had cottoned on.

Ron propped himself on one elbow for a better view. Both her shoulders and one arm were above the covers, and one leg was bent underneath them; she almost looked like a ballerina laid flat. Her face was turned slightly away from him, her hair was wild on the pillow, and her beautiful features were still relaxed in sleep. He slid his free hand across her stomach to cup her opposite hip and began nuzzling her neck. Ticklish, she tried to wiggle away from him, but he held firm.

"Ron, wha—mmph—"

Ron slanted his mouth over hers. If he kept her distracted, maybe she wouldn't remember where they were. Her mouth opened, one hand came up to tangle in his hair, that bent leg was wrapping around his, and—his sister was singing?

"What the—"

Ron jerked away as Hermione sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. There was a silver horse at the foot of his bed, singing in Ginny's voice.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Hermione, happy birthday to you! Since I can't be with you today, I thought this was the next best thing. Your gift is inside Harry's winter cloak. I love you!"

"Hey, did I hear Ginny—"

Hermione screamed. There was a _pop_ and a _slam _and Harry looked behind him. The bathroom door was tightly shut.

"Sorry," Harry said, but he was grinning as he closed the door.

Ron fell back on the bed as Ginny's Patronus faded. Bloody sisters!

* * *

a/n: As promised, dinner with the Trio and an owlet named Lancelot. So we see Harry's been thinking about how to apologize to Ginny, and Hermione challenges him to up his game. Next week we'll start seeing what that looks like :) (Well, it's today in the story, but you know what I mean!) Thanks to everyone who is following and reviewing this story; I always enjoy hearing from readers :D

Speaking of which, I'm taking a survey. My story traffic has changed over the last few weeks, and I'm attributing that to the resumption of school all around the world (thank goodness I'm done!). So, for my future reference, which day would you prefer for updates: Wednesdays, Fridays, or Saturdays?


	5. Chapter 5

_Thursday, late morning_

Tired but pleased with the morning's practice, Ginny secured the broom shed. Even after extra laps she had time for a shower before lunch.

She heard it even before she exited the stairwell; it sounded like an entire flock of geese. The noise increased as she turned the corner. Her roommate Emma was standing at their door looking even more put out than usual.

"Your idiot boyfriend sent you honking daffodils. About a hundred of them."

"Don't call him an idiot."

That was her privilege. Ginny peered into the room. Emma exaggerated, but not by much. Bright yellow honking daffodils were clustered in green vases (her favorite color) all over the room: two on the windowsill, five on her dresser, four on her desk, and three more on the chair. The noise was deafening, but Ginny couldn't help it. She smiled.

()()()()

_Thursday noon_

Ginny and her fellow Chasers were discussing the weaknesses of the Arrows' keeper over roast chicken and jacket potatoes when Gretchen interrupted.

"Yum, who put in a Honeydukes order?"

The owl carrying the distinctive gold and silver package was heading right for Ginny. After confirming it was hers, Ginny opened the box. For the first time ever, she was disappointed to see Honeydukes chocolate; Harry never gave her chocolate. She removed four bars, looking for a card, and then she saw them: half a dozen blueberry and bubblegum Fizzing Whizbees. Ginny popped a pink one in her mouth, sucking happily as she floated slightly above her teammates. He remembered.

()()()()

_Thursday evening_

Ginny was trying to turn the page without smearing chocolate everywhere when the owl caught her attention. He was fluttering outside her window, unable to land on the narrow sill with a long roll of parchment tied to his leg. Abandoning her playbook, she opened the window and cleared a spot on her desk, catching a vase of now-silenced daffodils when he staggered slightly. The owl hooted an apology, watching her with anxious black eyes.

"It's all right," she said as she untied the parchment. "You're new at this, aren't you?" The owl rubbed his head against her arm. Ginny complied, stroking his feathers gently. "You're a sweet thing. Do you like owl nuts, hmm?" She opened her desk drawer and offered some on her palm. The tawny owl nipped them deftly, then nibbled at her fingers. Ginny laughed and shook out some more. "All right, you eat these and I'll read my letter."

There was a shorter bit of parchment tucked inside the scroll.

_Meet Lancelot, my new owl. I told him to make friends with you as I hope you'll be seeing rather a lot of each other. As you can probably tell, he's not yet full-grown and just passed his post qualifications. I wasn't sure about sending him so far for his first delivery, but he insisted. He's Hermione's birthday gift. I know, but the first thing I got her was no good and Ron said this would make her happy, which it did, so I guess it counts as an okay gift. I also bought her Lockhart's new cookbook and outlined the title in little hearts to wind her up, except I added a Color-Change Charm to mine. Pink and pinker, in case you were wondering. Anyway, I was hoping you could keep Lance overnight, and I'll pick him up tomorrow evening. Thanks for the ticket._

_Harry_

_P.S. Send me your season schedule, would you?_

Well, at least he got Hermione one decent gift. Ginny's mouth twitched as she regarded the absolutely adorable owlet poking his beak into a bunch of daffodils. Ginevra and Lancelot, was she supposed to read something into that? Shaking her head—Harry sent Lance to soften her up and they both knew it—she unrolled the proper letter.

_My beautiful Ginny,_

That's what Harry called her when they made love, but he'd never written it before. She traced the words with her finger.

_I nearly got your brother killed on Monday. _

Ginny sat down hard. Thankfully, her desk chair was right behind her.

_Ron and I were the only ones in the office at lunchtime when communication came in from a reliable informant that Death Eaters were spotted at Malfoy Manor over the weekend. Following procedure would have taken hours, so Ron and I Disapparated. I got trapped in a Devil's Snare as we sneaked through the gardens to enter the house from the side. Ron's _Incendio_ freed me, but it also announced our arrival. Things only got worse from there. _

_We had left the owl on Ron's desk, but it flew to Matthews in the cafeteria. Apparently he instructs all his informants to send post to Headquarters first, drop it with any available Auror if he's not there, and then locate him directly. Damned lucky, that, since otherwise they would have had no idea where we went. We got trapped in the library, firing off defensive spells to keep them from charging the room. By the time the rest of the Aurors arrived, the Death Eaters had Disapparated. It was a humbling experience to stand bleeding in a wrecked room and admit we'd screwed up._

Bleeding? Hermione had said he was okay, that he and Ron were both fine!

_We were sent to St. Mungo's—I swear, that's punishment in itself—where Ron got his nose fixed and his shoulder healed (I reckoned the stone floor would do less damage than a Killing Curse), and they cleaned up my cuts. Hermione went spare; by the time we got back she was screaming in Robards's office. He shut us all in an interrogation room, and we settled Hermione down. After she left, Ron and I were arguing about him admitting he was injured, and he said something that made me think._

_Ron said if he didn't tell Hermione when he was hurt, she couldn't trust him when he said he was okay. And that's when I realized you don't trust me because you know I've been lying to you._

Ginny's insides froze, just like a Dementor attack. Oh, Merlin, it was true.

But no, it couldn't be. Harry had sent her favorite flowers, and her favorite chocolate, and their sweet, and a ridiculously cuddly owl; he was trying to make up with her, not break up with her. The icy fist around her heart relaxed.

_Everything hasn't been fine. The accelerated program has been especially difficult this summer, and instead of sharing my problems with you I tried to hide them. I know that year we were gone was hell for you, and you've already spent enough time worrying about me. I want to take care of you, Gin, I don't ever want you to worry about anything. _

That was so Harry, the prat. Why hadn't she considered that? Instead, she had assumed he was bored with her, that he had decided they were nothing more than Hogwarts sweethearts and was looking for a way to end their relationship without angering her entire family. Which, Ginny admitted, she didn't think was possible.

_But you've probably worried about what I'm hiding, huh? Nothing you haven't guessed. A few minor injuries. Resentment from the other trainees because Kingsley waived our N.E.W.T.s and standard Academy training (especially the senior class, because we're training with them now even though we started two years later). Scuttlebutt that Ron and I failed some of our exams but are being pushed through because we're "war heroes." _

She loved how he put that in quotes, like it wasn't true.

_Now, after Monday, the whole Ministry is speculating. Pure exhaustion, partly because of the physical demands of training, and partly because—_

The parchment was splotched with ink, like Harry had started and stopped several times, and the icy fist moved to Ginny's stomach.

_well, because I've been having nightmares. _

Damn. And damn Harry for not telling her! Ginny stretched out the remaining parchment with a jerk.

_Escape and Evasion is the worst. I've actually had flashbacks during training sessions, and I did fail that exam the first time. I'm not sure I deserved to pass the second time, either. I don't want to wear the scarlet robes because I'm Harry Potter; I want to wear them because I earned them. I don't care what other people think, but I need to know I earned this._

_Okay, I'm good at defense, but there's so much more to being an Auror than casting spells. All the legal stuff, for one (Ron's much better at that than I am), or the way you have to get inside a criminal's head during interrogation, or cultivating informants. It's been a hard summer, and I didn't want to burden you._

In typical fashion, once Harry opened up it all spilled out of him. Ginny scowled at the familiar handwriting. Why couldn't Harry understand that just as his love for her made him want to protect her, her love for him made her want to share his suffering?

_I know you say we can get through anything as long as we're honest and open with each other. I failed to do that this time, and I'm sorry, really sorry I hurt you. That's why I asked to see you, because I wanted to work this out in person, and yes, I totally forgot about your match. I felt like a complete arse when I realized it—_

Good!

_I was a complete arse. I was so focused on work, I didn't even realize that was your pre-season leave. It's no excuse, but I swear I would have made more time with you if I'd remembered it was our last chance for a while._

Ginny frowned at the parchment again. Well, that sort of made her feel better. Except—was Harry implying it was okay to ignore her when they were together more?

_We should have talked about this while you were home, about me coming to your matches and our schedules for the next few months, how we would stay in touch and when we could be together. I'm so proud of you, Ginny! You're a fantastic Chaser, and I know you'll be starting before the end of the season. I can't wait to see you in your Harpies robes (or out of them). How about another game of Scars and Freckles tomorrow night? _After_ your first professional Quidditch match, of course._

_Love, __Harry_

_P.S. In case you haven't guessed, I have new scars. Any new freckles?_

_P.S. again How come I never knew your favorite sweet was Honeydukes chocolate bars?_

Ginny smirked. She had known he'd get around to sex eventually. Scars and Freckles was a game she invented summer after sixth year, that horrible summer when the only thing that felt right was the time she spent with Harry. In exchange for telling her the story behind one of his many scars, Ginny had allowed him to count, and touch, and kiss, the freckles on any part of her he chose. It had been her way of getting him to talk about the Horcrux Hunt, of finding out all the history they'd been too busy snogging to talk about during fifth year, and it had allowed them to have fun with each other without the pressure to have sex. It was the first time she was pleased to have freckles although Harry had certainly given her reason to be grateful for that many times since_._

Ginny squirmed. Thinking about Harry kissing her all over was not helpful. Her gaze landed on Lance, who had abandoned the flowers and was now perched imperiously on her stack of books. She reached to pet him. Harry bought a still-slightly-fluffy baby post owl and gave him a name that was a play on words with her own. Yeah, she thought she could get liberty on Friday.


	6. Chapter 6

_Friday, early morning_

Harry, hair still wet from the shower, entered the kitchen and crossed to the back window. No owl on the windowsill. Craning his neck, he scanned what little sky was visible between the city buildings. Still no owl. Disappointed, he gathered the makings for breakfast and set to work. Since his and Ron's authorization for independent missions had been revoked they were back with the senior Academy class for weekly field exercises today. They had to be in Cornwall by sunrise, and would be lucky to be back in London by afternoon. Harry scanned the skies again. Surely Lance made it in time for her to get a letter off last night. She wouldn't make him wait to see her to find out whether she accepted his apology, would she?

Harry sighed. Of course she would. Hadn't he asked to meet in his first letter, said he wanted to tell her in person? And he had told her to keep Lance. He turned the bacon, thinking about the day ahead. He'd spent the last few months setting aside thoughts of Ginny to focus on work; he could manage one more day.

()()()()

_Friday, early afternoon_

"Hey, Helen, any post for me?" Harry called to the trainees' secretary as he entered Headquarters.

"If there is, it's in your box like everyone else's, Potter."

"What he really means," Ron smirked as he raised his voice to carry over the office buzz, "is—is there any apple-green post for him?"

General laughter followed this statement, especially from the trainees filing in behind them. Hermione had bought Ginny an apparently endless supply of stationery for her birthday last year, and he and Ginny had carried on enough of an owl romance during her last year at Hogwarts that it had become quite common to see apple-green envelopes with a silver embossed _GMW_ among the Ministry's pale violet memos and yellow parchment.

Helen joined in the ribbing with an ease that made her both beloved and feared. "Come to think of it," she posed with a finger on her chin, "I've only seen one apple-green envelope come through here this week. What's the matter, Potter, that Chosen One charm wearing off?"

"Just because you haven't seen it doesn't mean she hasn't written."

"Maybe he's branching out," Clarke said. "Why settle for one witch, when you could have them all?"

Harry thought this was a gross exaggeration of his appeal.

"Have you _seen_ his witch?" Marshall asked. "Quality Quidditch Supplies has the new Harpies posters, and I'm telling you, she—"

"Watch it, Marshall, that's my—"

"We know, Weasley. Your gorgeous, fit, looks-damn-fine-on-a-broom sister."

"She can play, too." Even Ron wouldn't challenge the hulking Payne.

Besides, Payne was just telling the truth. Harry hadn't seen the posters yet, but he'd spent his share of time watching Ginny on a broomstick (and had the Bludger scars to prove it).

They were near Helen's desk now, and she grimaced at their approach. "Showers," she said, pinching her nose with one hand and pointing towards the training rooms behind her with the other. "Now. What did you boys do this morning, roll around in a manure pit?"

She wasn't far off. They'd been all over the fields of an abandoned farm, running Concealment & Disguise and Stealth & Tracking drills. More than one of them had got trapped inside the barn, the roof and walls of which only served to collect and concentrate the unpleasant odors of unwashed animal, dung, and sweaty male. Harry hadn't had that much fun in weeks.

Helen caught his eye, and he let the others go ahead.

"I'd say this is more of a forest green." She winked as she slipped a large, dark green and gold envelope from underneath her blotter.

He gave her a wide smile. "Thanks, Helen, you're the best."

"Don't forget it," she called as he trailed his classmates down the hallway, slicing open the envelope with his wand.

Harry's mouth went dry. It was the Harpies poster. Or more accurately, it was Ginny's Harpy poster. Instead of the formal group shot he'd been expecting with the team's season schedule, Ginny was the only witch in the photo. She was flying in uniform, and like all wizarding photographs, this one moved. Her long red hair was completely down and blowing in the wind, and the skirt of her dark green robes billowed behind her, revealing their gold lining. Slim thighs in snug brown trousers gripped the broomstick tightly, and her hands—her hands were—

Harry swallowed, or tried to. His throat was dry, too.

"Potter, showers!"

Yes, a shower sounded good.

()()()()

_Friday, mid-afternoon_

Harry sat at his desk, quill poised over a piece of parchment blank except for today's date. He was supposed to be writing his self-evaluation of this morning's field exercise, summarizing what he did well and the things he needed to improve, but all he could come up with today was "I shouldn't have got my independent status revoked and then I wouldn't have to do these bloody things." Somehow he didn't think that was what the Academy was looking for.

He glanced over at Ron, whose quill was scratching industriously, then around the room. He was looking for inspiration but was distracted by something flying around the other side of the office. Not a pale violet paper airplane, but an apple-green paper—harpy? Helen would pay for this.

Ignoring the teasing from his coworkers, Harry Summoned the envelope and ended the charm. He had difficulty slipping his thumb under the flap because the envelope was still moving, then realized his hand was shaking slightly.

_Dear Harry,_

_Don't EVER write me a letter like that again! I had already talked to Hermione twice, who assured me both times that you and Ron were fine, and it still scared me. I understand now why you wanted to talk in person; we'll have to work something out for those situations. To know you were hurt and not be able to see for myself that you're all right was torture._

_Thank Merlin for Matthews! You and Ron have to remember that Hermione isn't around anymore to save your sorry arses and start thinking for yourselves. _

Yeah, he missed Hermione's planning. Ron thought things through more than he did, but he didn't insist Harry listen to him the way Hermione always had. He frowned. Ron had said something, when they were in the interrogation room Monday, about realizing they were in trouble but Harry being ahead of him. Ron had been all for screwing procedure, too, but had wanted to collect a couple of the better trainees to go with them. Harry's guilt increased. If he'd listened to Ron, taken another team and stayed with his partner like they were taught to do, maybe the Death Eaters wouldn't have escaped.

_I'm sure you've been beating yourself up in abundance, so I won't say anything more about it except learn your lesson—or St. Mungo's will be the least of your problems. And thank you for my brother (but don't tell him I said that)._

Ginny tried to maintain a façade of friendly indifference towards her closest brother, but he knew her gratitude was genuine.

_Well, Ron was right in what he said (don't tell him I said that, either). I know there have been times you've been injured or had something go wrong (common sense would tell me that, Harry), but even when you were brooding or moving like you were in pain you said everything was fine. Then on the days you looked fine and said you were fine I wasn't sure I could believe you. You've been quiet and detached, especially over the last month or so, the most I've seen since right after the war. I've always been able to charm you out of your moods, but you wouldn't let me close enough this summer, and you didn't seem to notice (or care) when I became snippy and aloof. You were so distant during my pre-season leave I thought you were looking for a way to break up with me._

Those words were like a Bludger to the gut. How could she think that? He never wanted to be separated from Ginny, he loved her! He hated they had to spend so much time apart. How many times in their letters last year had they bemoaned the distance, the anti-Apparition charms, the restrictions of Hogwarts? Harry read that paragraph again. Had he really reminded her of those terrible weeks after the death of Voldemort when he'd barely been awake enough to eat and had mourned the loss of so many lives?

_Harry, you have to accept the fact that I'm going to worry about you. It's not something I obsess about, but you not talking to me makes it worse, not better. You have to trust me not to freak out; I don't think I deserve your assumption that I can't handle the stress of being an Auror's girlfriend._

Harry frowned at the parchment. That's what Ron said, and he had to admit they were right. Ginny had always handled the danger surrounding him with incredible aplomb, even humor.

_I am angry with you for not telling me about the nightmares. I assume this is why you stopped sleeping with me? In case you didn't figure it out when I was home, you are not allowed to ignore me and then drop in for sex. Relationships are about sharing life together, and if that means I get awakened in the middle of the night by my boyfriend's screams, well, that's life. You told me once I was better than Dreamless Sleep Potion; was that just a line?_

Harry grinned, remembering. It was the truth, not a line, but as they had been secluded underneath the willow tree by the pond and spent the rest of the afternoon not sleeping, he could see why she thought so.

_You said you were having flashbacks during Escape and Evasion training; about the cemetery when Voldemort came back, or being immobilized when Dumbledore died?_

His grin vanished. See, this is why he didn't want to tell her, because she knew too much.

_Bad memories are only powerful when we hide them. They feed on darkness and fear. Bring them out into the light, expose them to love, and they become simply memories again. You are earning those scarlet robes, no matter what anyone says. Kingsley may be expediting_ _things, but I'm certain he's told Robards to make sure you and Ron are qualified. He doesn't want incompetent Aurors in the Ministry any more than you want to be one (which you're not!)._

_As far as staying in touch and visits and things, we'll talk about that tonight._

_Love,_

_your beautiful Ginny_

_P.S. That would be telling._

_P.P.S. Because my favorite sweet from you is Fizzing Whizbees. _

_P.P.P.S. Bring your Invisibility Cloak._

Well, that wasn't too bad. He had known she would be mad about him hiding the nightmares, and yes, he'd figured out during a week of abstinence that he couldn't have his cake and eat it too, but the way she signed her name and asked him to bring the Cloak meant she was ending that, right?

Harry glanced at his watch, then at the still-blank parchment. That apple-green harpy turned out to be inspiring after all.

* * *

a/n: Oh, my gosh, guys, I almost forgot to post this! I was just sitting down to work on a challenge piece and congratulating myself on all the housework and bills I'd gotten done when I realized we were hours into Wednesday—at least in my neck of the woods ;) My laptop died yesterday and it goes without saying that my life has been a little chaotic since then. But don't worry, I have all my writing backed up on a jump drive, so this story will continue as planned :)

The inspiration for Ginny's uniform comes from this fan art by Golden Snitch 33. Check it out (just remove the spaces)!

http:/ www. phoenixsong. net/ fanart/ image. php? psid= 15015 &pid= 191 & iid= 1821

keeptheotherone


	7. Chapter 7

_Friday evening_

Ginny sat on the changing room bench in full gear, breathing deeply and wishing she hadn't run back to her room for the last half of her last chocolate bar. She'd had pre-match jitters before, but this was professional Quidditch! What in the name of magic had possessed her to try out for a _professional Quidditch _team? She was going to vomit, and she wasn't even starting. But since this exhibition match wouldn't affect their standings in the league, Gwen had promised the reserves some playing time if the Harpies got a hundred point lead. Ginny's stomach lurched like she was riding the Floo.

Her teammates gasped, and she looked up hopefully; maybe someone was sicker than she. A silver stag was emerging from a wall of lockers, and Ginny rose to meet it.

"Relax, Ginny, you've trained your whole life for this. Keep your eye on the Quaffle and put it through a hoop. That's all there is to it."

Ginny smiled as everyone broke into excited chatter. She _had_ trained her whole life for this opportunity, and that last bit—that's what Harry had always said as her captain.

"What was that?" Gwen asked.

"A Patronus." Her nausea was fading. "They repel Dementors, but with an additional charm you can send short messages."

"Was that Harry's? That's so sweet," Gracie said.

It did give her a warm feeling to know Harry was not only thinking of her but took the time to do a difficult bit of magic just to encourage her. But she was not going to let him charm her entire team.

"He's been a prat since summer, he's hoping—" she caught the eye of her captain—"I'll forgive him, that's all," she finished smoothly.

Behind Gwen's back, Emma winked.

()()()()

Harry sat high in the stands surrounded by Harpy family members. He'd drawn a lot of stares until the teams came onto the pitch, but now everyone's attention was on the starting players who were warming up.

"There she is!" Ron yelled, shoving the binoculars in Harry's face. He had to lean back to avoid a black eye. "Far end, third from the left."

Harry had already picked out her bright hair on the sidelines, but now he could see her face. She looked excited but not nervous. He hoped his Patronus had something to do with that.

The crowd buzzed with energy. Two weeks of exhibitions, then nothing but commentary and conjecture until the official season started in November. Harry switched his focus to the Seekers, eager for the match to begin.

()()()()

"And with the Harpies leading the Arrows 210 to 100, Jones calls a time out. It looks like she will play some promising reserve players as she usually does during exhibitions. This is Jones's sixth year captaining the Harpies, and her impartial style is well-established. Yes, that's Emma Gordon, reserve Beater and reserve Chaser Ginevra Weasley. Yes, folks, I said Weasley. You may remember when Charlie Weasley was being recruited to play Seeker for England, and of course Ron needs no introduction. This is Charlie and Ron's baby sister taking to the air in her first professional match. Ginevra just graduated Hogwarts this summer where she captained Gryffindor to their fourth straight Quidditch Cup Championship, excepting 1995 and 1998 when Quidditch was cancelled for the Triwizard Tournament and Second Wizarding War, respectively. Incidentally, Miss Weasley played on three of those four teams, winning the deciding match as Seeker in 1996 and 1997. Of course, Harry Potter had been Seeker for Gryffindor since his arrival at the school in—"

Ginny was in the air, all right, flying straight for the press box.

"What is she doing?" Fleur asked.

"She has her hand against the glass of the box," Percy said, leaning out from the end of the row with his binoculars up, "but I can't tell why—"

Percy's voice was drowned out by the announcer's enthusiasm.

"There's been some speculation that Miss Weasley got a spot on her favorite team through her brother Ron and her relationship with Harry Potter, but judging from the way she turned that broomstick on a knut right under my nose, ladies and gentlemen, this witch can _fly_!"

Harry and Ron whooped.

"Miss Weasley has pressed a lovely note to my window."

"Oh, no," Molly moaned.

George and Ron grinned at each other.

" 'I have five older brothers—' "

It still jarred Harry to hear that, even more than a year later. Five older brothers, not six.

" 'who call me their baby sister, but I don't take that crap from anyone else. And the last person who called me Ginevra spent the night in the Hospital Wing. My name is GINNY!' "

Hermione laughed, giving Harry the impression she'd witnessed that hexing, but Molly moaned again, hiding her face in Arthur's shoulder.

"That's our girl," Bill said proudly.

The announcer's voice was quivering with amusement. "I'd say the Harpies' reputation as excellent fliers and fierce witches is nailed to the wall with this one!"

The Harpies fans went crazy, waving banners and flapping their arms in imitation of the team mascot.

Bill caught the eye of each of his brothers. "Right as the Quaffle releases, eh?"

Harry stuck his fingers in his ears just in time as the brothers stood up, put two fingers to their mouths, and whistled loudly.

_Very_ loudly.

"Did she hear us?" Ron squinted at the pitch (George had nicked his binoculars).

"They heard you across the pond." Harry checked his fingers for blood.

George grinned. "She heard us. She looks like a Christmas tree."

"What?" Had an Arrows' fan jinxed her?

But Ron was laughing. "Red face, red hair, green robes." He passed the glasses to his best mate. "She looks like a Christmas tree."

Harry bit his cheek. If Ginny heard he'd laughed at that, he'd need his Invisibility Cloak to hide from her as the third brother hid from Death. But damn, this was fun!

()()()()

_Friday night_

Harry had waited good-naturedly through the press conference and the celebratory dinner with her family (Ginny scored four goals before Gracie caught the Snitch), but they had been saying goodbye for a solid fifteen minutes now, and his patience was wearing thin.

"Yes, Mum, I'll Floo-call next week. Thanks, Daddy, I love you too. No, Hermione, go with George. I promised Ron and Harry we'd go for a short fly. Fleur, thanks for coming."

She ducked Bill's attempt to ruffle her hair and hugged Percy for the third time. To support their story, Ron waited until everyone else Disapparated, and then they were alone.

Ginny smiled at him and began walking. "I didn't see you at the press conference."

Harry fell into step beside her. "That was the idea. You were brilliant. Poised, charming, evasive . . . ."

"I knew they would ask about us, so I talked with our PR manager. I wanted to nip that in the bud."

"You nipped some other things in the bud."

"That wasn't planned." She sounded embarrassed.

"Your brothers loved it. So did the fans."

"Mum didn't."

"Not so much." Harry glanced at her. Ginny looked content to walk the two miles from town to her dormitory. "Nice night to Apparate."

"It's a nice night for a walk, Harry."

He caught her knowing look as they passed under a street lamp.

"You can't blame a bloke for trying."

She reached for his hand. "I guess not. But I've already let you off the hook once."

He had hoped the talking would be after the sex, but . . . .

"I really am sorry. Especially that you thought I was going to break up with you. Nothing could be further from the truth, you know that, right?"

She nodded, and her braid rustled over her jumper.

"I'll attend as many of your matches as possible," Harry promised. "I can't on night duty, and some days I won't know until the last minute, but I want to be there for you." He remembered something else from her letter. "To share life together."

"You really are eager to sleep with me, aren't you?"

"Definitely." He let go of her hand to slide his arm around her. She allowed it, but she didn't snuggle in.

"Why the change?"

"Huh?" It had been a very long time since he hadn't wanted Ginny.

"You weren't interested three weeks ago. Friday night was great—at least, I thought it was, but then you cancelled our weekend."

"I'm not the one who had a headache every other day," Harry said, then kicked himself when Ginny jerked away.

"I don't sleep with wizards just because they show up in my bedroom, even if you are Harry Potter!"

Harry sighed. It was the exact same fight all over again, and instead of coming clean he'd got defensive. This honesty stuff was harder than he had anticipated.

"I got on the wrong side of a Venomous Tentacula."

"What?"

"Saturday, when I was late for dinner. We were training on the obstacle course, and I got on the wrong side of a Venomous Tentacula. I Apparated to Hermione's flat first so she could heal me, but she'd already left for my place. I thought if I was late and injured, you would worry every time I wasn't exactly prompt, and there's loads of days I'm late but nothing's wrong. So I needed you to leave." Harry couldn't see her expression, but he could feel the chill radiating from her side of the path.

"So Hermione gets the truth and dinner, but I get lies."

"No!"

"No, you didn't tell her the truth, or no, you didn't have dinner with her? Because you sent me home like a disobedient child, and you've admitted you lied to me."

Harry stepped towards her. Ginny turned her back.

"Ginny, I've said I'm sorry, that hiding this stuff was a mistake. I'm trying to explain why I didn't have you stay the weekend like we planned."

When she said nothing, he continued. "I had told you everything was fine, but if you'd stayed we would have made love, and you would've seen the bites. Even if I had got Hermione alone to heal them, they're sore for days, and you would've known when you touched me. I didn't want to be caught in a lie."

She was quiet for a minute, then turned round. "Hermione's not the only one who can do a healing charm, you know."

He was so used to Hermione patching him up, and so determined not to worry Ginny, that had honestly never occurred to him. Mercifully, Ginny continued.

"All right. Lying to me was stupid, but once you did the rest makes sense. But it was really hard to leave the three of you and go home to Mum and Dad. I was just Ron's kid sister all over again."

They were out of town now, her face lit only by moonlight. He'd done more damage than he thought if Ginny was that uncertain of herself. "I kicked them out, too."

"After Hermione healed you."

"Well, yeah."

"Are you sure you got an O.W.L. in Herbology?"

"Very funny."

They walked in silence for several minutes. Harry could just make out the Harpies' buildings as darker shadows against the night when she spoke.

"So you're going to be more open about work and attend as many matches as possible. I understand why you wrote about Malfoy Manor, but next time will you Floo-call me instead?"

"I can do that. And we'll Floo . . . twice a week?"

Ginny nodded. "That sounds good. I know your schedule changes, so we can arrange the next call whenever we talk. I write more than you, so if I know we'll be talking or seeing each other in the next day or two, I won't be upset if you don't always write back. As long as you don't take advantage. You have your own owl now."

"Okay. And you'll come to me if something's bothering you?"

She stopped behind the stands. "What do you mean?"

Harry asked the question that had been nagging him since Wednesday. "Why did I have to ask for your schedule?"

Ginny fidgeted.

"Gin?"

"You didn't see my note?"

"I was rather distracted by the photo."

"Did you like it?"

He rested his hands on her waist. "Answer the question."

"I wanted you to ask. You were avoiding me, and I wanted you to want to come."

"I do, very much." His hands drifted higher, tracing her ribs.

"Emma's family is in from Inverness for the weekend. She's staying with them."

Emma, Emma, who was Emma? Then he remembered a snippet from her first letter. "Emma is your roommate."

Ginny nodded, smiling.

"Your roommate is staying in town tonight?"

She nodded again.

"Then why the hell are we out here?"

* * *

a/n: Yay, they made up! One more chapter and we'll finish next week. A friendly reminder: please leave a review when you favorite a story. I'm especially interested in feedback from those of you who thought Ginny should break up with Harry. Has he apologized to your satisfaction?

A special thank you to Miss Weasley for her review last week; I wasn't able to PM. All my other lovely reviewers, you should have received a thank you, too :)


	8. Chapter 8

_Saturday, very early morning_

Ginny lay beside Harry, one leg between his, breasts squished into his side, her head on his chest, his arm draped over her hip, her arm around his waist, tracing her thumb back and forth. She loved lying with him like this and never tired of the sound of his heart thumping reassuringly under her ear. They'd lit the lamp on Emma's desk, and it cast a soft glow over the room.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you'll tell me if you change your mind about us."

"What?" His head lifted from the pillow, but she didn't move.

"If you decide you don't want to be with me anymore, I want you to tell me. Promise?"

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. _

"I thought we'd settled this—I'm not breaking up with you."

"But if you do, I want to know," Ginny said, trying to sound reasonable. "I don't want you to stay with me because it's what everyone expects, or because you want to be part of my family, or because of your friendship with Ron."

"Okay, let's play what-if. You think I would stay with you even if I didn't love you anymore, just because of your family?"

"They're a formidable force."

His laughter rumbled under her ear. "I'm not arguing that, but don't you think they'd have something to say about me messing you around?"

Ginny thought that over. Yes, if her parents and brothers thought Harry wasn't treating her well, they'd definitely have something to say about it. She had heard a little grumbling during her leave.

"And do you really think they would want you to stay with a bloke who didn't love you?"

Probably not. But Mum was awfully fond of Harry . . . .

His arm tightened around her. "I don't want anyone but you; I never have, not really. Where is this coming from?"

Ginny swallowed against the lump in her throat. Harry said things like that all the time, that he didn't want anyone but her, he loved her, he hated being separated from her. But they never talked about the future, about their life together. She'd tried reminding herself they were still young—she'd just turned eighteen, for pity's sake—but she hadn't felt that kind of young in a long, long time. Not since she'd kept a diary.

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

"Ginny?"

She didn't want to scare Harry off by talking about—commitment. She knew part of the reason he was drawn to her was her strength, her independence, her resilience, but she didn't feel any of that now. Now she felt uncertain, insecure, needy. Ginny closed her eyes. Perhaps three days before her period was not the best time to have this conversation.

Harry began stroking her hair from scalp to ends, and she knew he was going to wait her out. What the hell, Ginny Weasley was no coward.

"Do you think you'll always feel that way?"

"About you? Yeah, Ginny, I do. I can't imagine ever feeling about someone else the way I do about you. I can't imagine anyone being more perfect for me than you."

Ginny finally raised her head to meet his green, green eyes and was surprised to see they were glistening.

"There were times, over the years, I thought I wouldn't see my next birthday, and after Dumbledore died I knew I wouldn't see eighteen. I can't tell you how many times, that last year of the war, I thought it was over. I thought Ron had left for good, I thought we were going to lose Hermione at Malfoy Manor, and you—"

His voice cracked, and she knew he was remembering her duel with Bellatrix. Ginny shuddered.

"I never planned out my life because I didn't think I had one to plan, and this last year with you—I just wanted to enjoy it, to enjoy loving you."

"I'm going to love you forever. Always. I'm certain of it, Harry."

His hand shifted to the back of her head, and they kissed for a long time.

Breathless, Ginny broke away and cuddled against him again.

_LubdubLubdubLubdubLubdub_

She hadn't been sure he would see his eighteenth birthday, either; or his seventeenth, for that matter. But he had, and she had been there for them, and for his nineteenth, and she would be for many, many more to come. But she needed to hear him say it.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Gin, hypothetically speaking, if I ever decide to break up with you, you'll be the first to know."

She pinched his side and he yelped.

"So now that you've had some time to think about it—"

"Do I want to get married and have a family?"

Ginny's face heated; Harry knew she'd been fishing. She nodded against his chest.

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. _

He was combing his fingers through her hair again, fanning it onto her back. "Someday, yeah. When I'm through Auror training and you're done playing Quidditch—"

Ginny raised up on one elbow. "You wouldn't want me to play Quidditch if we were married?"

"Not if we were starting a family. You, pregnant, on a broomstick? No way."

She relaxed onto his chest again. "Not if I were trying to get pregnant." That was written in her contract—pass monthly pregnancy tests, or she was off the team. Period. Which was why Hermione was in charge of brewing her birth control potion.

"I don't want kids for a while yet. You were right, I have trained my whole life to play professional Quidditch, and now that I'm here I want to give it a chance. A really good chance. I think I'll want to marry you before I get tired of playing Quidditch, but I don't want to do that for a while yet, either. I just—"

"Oh, you think you'll want to marry me first?" Harry flipped them over, pinning her with his weight. "Nice to know how I rate, Weasley."

"I only said I'd love you forever; I never said I loved you more than Quidditch."

"Well, I love you more than Quidditch," Harry said, kissing her nose. "And treacle tart," her eyes, "and Hogwarts," her forehead, "and Cockroach Clusters," her ear, "and paperwork . . . ."

Things were just getting interesting when he flipped her again, onto her stomach this time, and pulled her hair away from her neck.

"Ha'y? Wha're you tho'ng?" Ginny's voice was muffled by the pillow.

He was counting—oh! She didn't know who started it, but by the time she had Apparated them to the lobby they were snogging frantically, and it had taken a great deal of effort, despite the Invisibility Cloak, to navigate to her room undetected. (Harry had many talents, but walking backwards while kissing her was not one of them.) She'd knocked over a vase of daffodils as they entered (which turned out to be a good thing, since the Silencing Charm broke when the vase did, and the honking reminded them to set the privacy wards), Lance took refuge on the curtain rod, and the first time had been fast and intense. The second time they'd managed to completely shed their clothes and make it to the bed, but they'd yet to play Harry's requested game.

"Nothing new on your neck."

He actually sounded disappointed. Maybe before their next visit she'd fly without a sun protection charm, just for Harry. He began trailing his lips down her spine. She shivered and he smiled against her skin.

"Wait, the rule is you have to tell me about your scars before you count my freckles."

"Hey, I told you two stories—" Harry raised up on his arms to argue, which freed Ginny enough to roll over.

She smiled at him, handsome and disheveled above her. "But I think counting's overrated."

"Maybe later?"

Ginny laughed. "Always."

* * *

And that's the end of "Auror," as this fic has been known by me and my beta. Special thanks to vancabreuniter for her unflagging support and enthusiasm. I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I did writing it.

keeptheotherone


End file.
